Jennifer Walton's Debut Record "Daughters" Explores Grief and Style
Within the song "Miss America", audiences find themselves in a lodging close to JFK airfield, where Jennifer Walton receives the heartbreaking news of her father's cancer diagnosis. The Sunderland-born artist had been touring the US on her initial visit, drumming with group Kero Kero Bonito, when suddenly grief takes over, tinging all with melancholy. Faltering piano and hushed orchestration underscore dark reports emanating from the road: "Rural scenes and crumbling homes / Strip-mall, drug deal, panic attacks."
Her soft singing come across in a deadpan manner, yet the record's intensity arises from her sharp writing—mixing fiction, folksy sayings, and blunt personal notes—along with unexpected rich textures. Few songs this year possess stronger storytelling style than "Shelly", a piece that describes the killing of an animal and spirals into a fuel-soaked reckoning, evoking literary pieces lit by flickers of distorted cello. Tense, quiet sections with resonating, strummed guitar move to expansive choruses, and Walton's vocals electronically altered into something omniscient and menacing.
Audiences may already know Walton from her work as an electronic producer, DJ, and member in groups such as Caroline. The album's sonic turns reflect this varied background. The opener "Sometimes" erupts in fanfare, like an ensemble taken unawares, whereas "Born Again Backwards" drastically increases the tempo via an intense, stunning, looping percussion. Thick layers of audio, skillfully produced with a longtime collaborator, seem at once rough and ethereal, and her dark, enchanted thoughts peak on standout "Lambs", a song that briefly transforms into a swirling jig. "I hope your existence doesn't conclude with dying," Walton bargains, with heart-aching gallows humor.
